My Poetry. Brexit has seen him out!

He did not die of Hunger 
Nor was it the bottle of booze 
The drugs they did not do for him 
It wasn’t even the cruise. 
The poor guy he was healthy 
Just the other day 
He knelt at the side of bed as usual 
And he began to pray. 
He prayed for his family
All his friends, and foes
He even prayed for his Goldfish
And all his Hamsters toes.
So how did this man pass away
They say he was fit and well
It was a shock to everyone
As his funeral crowd would tell.
They say he passed with the TV on
Boris Johnston on repeat
All that could be heard that day
Was another parliamentary defeat.
The poor man couldn’t take it
Brexit had taken its toll
His heart had finally given way
With all the rigmarole.